Wonga did a film. It was intended to rinse off that smell it's cultivated. That horror smell of rotting flesh and desperate breath, dirty coins. To rinse it off and replace it with the lavender scent of their happy, not at all vulnerable customers and all their not at all compromised joy. There are touching stories of a dozen borrowers, who got loans to buy flowers for the funerals of loved ones and fund their travel costs between karaoke gigs – they never mention Wonga. It's a party-political broadcast for the payday party. And it seems, in retrospect, like a bit of a faff. Surely there must be an easier way?

Other ways Wonga could advertise without really advertising

■ Make a cheaper film, reminding people how lovely it feels on heroin. Reminding them that they've got the rest of their life to get clean. After just, you know, one more hit.

■ Go on a heavily PRed knee-capping spree around areas of increased deprivation.

■ Tweak the small print so that young British people now have to opt out of payday loans.

■ Hire another creative, this time to just whisper, creatively, in strangers' ears at bars, telling them their trainers are shit.

■ Offer meals on wheels and company for the elderly, hour-long slots with those whose families live abroad or never phone, tea deliveries by friendly, smiling listeners who'll just leave a leaflet here, by the phone, for when you're ready.

■ Sponsor ITV2 this Christmas, so that in every screening of Love Actually, in that bit where Egg holds up the bits of card, when viewers' eyes are soft and porous, his messages of love will be replaced with lyrical quotes from Wonga loanees.

■ Predict the apocalypse – the world will end just after our first repayment is due. It's a sure thing.

■ Display brightly coloured loans by supermarket checkouts so kids slip them into the trolley while queuing, then cry and cry and cry when their parent attempts to remove them.

■ Work closely with the government to increase the prices of essential things, with power, grit and speed.

■ Design Wonga-themed bathroom tiles, to harness the space in which we spend our darkest seconds, those moments where the fear gouges chunks out of our flesh. The space being the floor of the shower, where we are crouching, wet.

■ Partner with John Lewis to promote the true meaning of Christmas – crying; clicking; crying; borrowing; buying white goods in a variety of colours.

■ Approach people standing in long queues with a foldy chair and a notepad, and a very sharp pencil, and the quiet suggestion that they write a list of everything they want to change about themselves. And then we'll price it up.

■ Start a 9-5 revolution. Damn the man, the man that's tying us to a swivel chair five days a week! There's a whole world out there! Tell your boss exactly what you think of him, and walk out into your new life without the dull tug of a monthly salary. Yeah!

■ Sync with Spotify, so whenever a user plays a Walker Brothers song after midnight a Wonga pop-up appears, offering an affordable alternative to suicide.